


The World, It's Turning Inside-Out

by aimmyarrowshigh, spibsy (lucy_and_ramona)



Series: Never Never Never Stop for Anyone (Sheylinsonverse) [1]
Category: One Direction (Band), Union J (Band)
Genre: Bruises, Clubbing, Dom/sub Undertones, M/M, Multi, Polyamory, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-24
Updated: 2013-05-24
Packaged: 2017-12-12 19:59:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/815454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aimmyarrowshigh/pseuds/aimmyarrowshigh, https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucy_and_ramona/pseuds/spibsy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The night before the first live show of X Factor's ninth series, George meets Harry and Louis in a nightclub.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The World, It's Turning Inside-Out

**Author's Note:**

> **Warnings** : Explicit sexual content (slash [fingering, oral sex, penetrative sex, comeplay, mentions of rimming, some pain!kink, overstimulation, bruising, threesome, size!kink]) and graphic sexual dialogue.  
>  **Disclaimer** : We don't own anything. No claim of knowledge or veracity is made towards anyone in the story and no aspersions or claims of character are to be inferred. We have no connection nor permissions from One Direction, X-Factor, Simon Cowell, SyCo Inc., Sony, ITV, or Columbia Records. No libel intended.

** The World, It's Turning Inside-Out **

George still isn't used to the "X Factor lifestyle." He kind of misses his real eyebrows, for one thing, and living in the pocket of the other boys -- especially Josh, who he can tell had really wanted to be the breakout star -- is still a little bit grating. Contrary to what Jaymi said, he has indeed seen all seventeen tattoos, and he kind of wishes he hadn't (at least not yet).

But getting into nightclubs is cool. He's standing at the bar of Mahiki, nursing his way through a Jack and Coke he didn't have to pay for himself, watching the crowd writhing out on the dance floor.

There are much worse places he could be, and it's a very well made drink, and it's nice to get away from his - bandmates, that's still weird to think. He has band mates. It's nice to get away from them for a while, with their scores of inside jokes and the way they're already so familiar with each other. 

They've been trying to keep him in the loop, feeling as welcomed as possible, at least most of the time. But he can't expect them to just have him with open arms, even if they all know that's what needs to happen for them to make it in the competition.

George sighs and takes another sip from his drink. He really wants to get drunk, but that's 'inadvisable', apparently, in case he gets papped when he's completely shitfaced. _That_ is not something he's liking about the X Factor. He's used to drinking as much as he pleases.

Getting his picture taken is equal measures incredibly cool and incredibly weird. He still can't get around his head Greg James actually asking him on the radio whether he's the new Harry Styles, and people acting like that's _true_. There are girls waiting for him outside wherever he goes lately and he has no idea how they know where he's buying his NOW Magazine or his chicken roll or whatever, and there -- there are people writing porn about him on the internet. He read one. It was weird.

He isn't sure what he'd expected in auditioning for The X Factor, but it wasn't really being Harry Styles.

Not that he minds, per se. The Harry Styles comparison had gotten him laid plenty even before the X Factor.

If you believe the papers, looking like Harry Styles has been a great way to get girls for Harry Styles, as well. Not that George puts much stock in the papers, anymore. 

He drains the rest of his glass and sets it on the bar, twisting around to do a scan of the room. He's not really _looking_ to pick someone up, but if the opportunity were to present itself, he can't say he wouldn't take it. He hasn't had sex in what feels like ages. It's a bit difficult to fit in alongside band bonding time and actual vocal practice.

He's not complaining; he's really not. He's living the dream, and it's phenomenal, it's amazing, it's fantastic, it's everything he thought it would be. It's just also a lot... more than he expected. He's been wound so tightly for weeks now, and he needs a release or he'll explode all over the stage tomorrow night and it won't be pretty.

And apparently, pretty is sort of his schtick now.

It could be worse. It could definitely be worse, he thinks, considering all the personality differences between the people in the house this season. He's content being the pretty one. Who would mind that?

"Did you want another one of those?" comes a voice at his side. George startles, nearly smacking his elbow into the edge of the bar before he takes a deep breath, making a half-turn to see who's bent on killing him. Oh, of course it's Harry Styles. Because George didn't make enough of an idiot out of himself in front of him when they actually met.

(They had met in the loos backstage at Daybreak, because of course George's reaction to "boys, One Direction will be here in just a few and I've arranged for you to meet them" is a desperate need to wee. Harry had insisted on _talking to him at the urinals_ like that's a thing that people do, and smirked at him the whole time the rest of their bands were meeting each other before announcing that he and George had a special connection because they'd already been caught together with their flies down.)

George's response this time is much the same, but he manages to mentally give his bladder a stern talking to as well as offering Harry a smile that he hopes is less shaky than it looks. "What? Oh, I'm. Fine." Words, use your words, you idiot. "Er, did you? Want one. I mean."

Harry blinks slowly at him and a wide smile spreads across his face. He signals the bartender and two more Jack and Cokes come across the bar.

A hand snakes over Harry's shoulder and snatches up the second glass before Harry can take it. "Thanks, love."

Great, and now Louis Tomlinson is here, too, smiling twinklingly at George and he feels a little wibbly.

A lot wibbly, he decides after he tries to straighten up rather than slouch and only succeeds in somehow stumbling without moving his feet. He's trying to hard not to be starstruck but it's not working if the way Harry is smiling at him is any indication. He nudges his glass toward Harry.

"You can have mine?" he offers, managing what actually feels like a normal smile.

Louis seems to somehow peer at him, leaning on Harry's shoulder and swilling his glass like he thinks it's some sort of fine wine. "Oh, it's the new you!" he exclaims after a moment, gesturing toward George with his glass. "Knew I recognized him. Harry the Second."

"Shut up, Lou," Harry says amiably as George feels his face go thermonuclear. "Haven't you seen the internet? He's half the new you."

"I don't know," Louis says, and slides his way around Harry so he can lean up into George's red face and examine him. There's gin on his breath already but George doesn't think he's really drunk so much as tactile. "I don't see much of either of us really. Don't understand it."

"What I don't understand," Harry says, "Is how they think we've had a kid at all. I'm just effeminate, not a woman."

"He's from the future, Harry." Louis' voice is completely serious. "Miracles can happen in the future."

"I'm not," George offers nervously, and bats at his fringe. He wishes he had another Jack and Coke. "From the future. I was -- joking, when I said that. I mean, obviously I'm not from the -- I mean, sorry. If I offended. Yeah."  
George wasn't actually aware eyes could sparkle in real life, but there's a sparkle in Louis’ if he's ever seen one. 

"You're adorable, aren't you?" says Louis with a grin. Actually, George doesn't think he's stopped grinning since they've been standing there. "Not offended. Just joking around, loosen up a bit, alright?" He takes a glance at his glass and then shoves it into George's hand. "Have another drink, there's a good lad."

"'M not supposed to," George mumbles. "Live shows and that, I can't look a mess."

"Oh, yeah." Louis sounds both judgmental and displeased, sort of like a little drunken god. "I never see why. Sloppy is fun and everyone likes it. I think all of the X Factor acts should just be drunk all the time. That would be a great show. Harry, do you remember that time Niall and Cher were both drunk on the results show? That was hilarious."

"Not as hilarious as Rylan's hangover at judge's houses this year," Harry answers. He gives George a smile and this time it seems fully real and not the least predatory. "So long as you don't wail through your tongue for half an hour on the floor, I think they've no right to complain about your comport."

"I do that anyway, don't need to be drunk," says George automatically. He feels pleased with himself when they both laugh, like he's done something good in the world. Ridiculous. Well, what's actually ridiculous is that he's standing here chatting to Harry and Louis from One Direction and he hasn't woken up yet. "What are you doing out, anyway?" he adds, hoping he's not coming off as nosy. "Don't you have, like, popstar things to do?"

"No, not this weekend. It's your turn," they both say promptly, then look at each other and start to laugh, delighted.

Louis turns and smudges his face along Harry's shoulder, nuzzling into his bicep. Harry flushes like Louis' done something amazing and wraps his arm around Louis' waist, the tip of one thumb just barely tucked up beneath the hem of Louis' flouncy cap-sleeve, mandarin-collar blouse -- was that a thing popstar men wore now? George wonders, as it probably wouldn't suit him; he has chicken-arms -- to brush at Louis' tanned skin.

Oh, George thinks. So the internet is more reliable than the papers after all. He was right.

He wouldn't want to assume, ordinarily, but... There's only so many ways you can platonically nuzzle someone's throat, and he'd bet money that this isn't one of them.

George clears his throat, and from Harry's neck, Louis gives him a look that's almost challenging. He doesn't have to guess as to why, but Louis really doesn't have anything to worry about. He's hardly going to tell anybody about this and alienate the biggest pop group in the world.

Plus, well, he likes them. They've been nice to him so far and they didn't have to be. That's enough reason for George, and instead of saying anything, he bobs his head in what he hopes is a reassuring nod.

"Look," Louis stage-whispers to Harry, "He likes us."

"He has to," Harry answers, "Or he'll never get miracle-grown in the future."

"Ah!" Louis grumbles, and wrestles Harry into a headlock. "Stop with that! It's weird and it's even weirder 'cause he's really fit." He looks up at George. "Isn't it weird 'cause you're fit?"

"Erm," George offers intelligently. "I'd've said it's weird 'cause I'm older than Harry, personally."

"You are not!" Harry gasps from Louis’ armpit. "Are you really? You can't be."

"I am, I checked and everything when, you know," he waves a hand, "when that whole thing started going around. I've been nineteen and you're not until February."

"Well, that's not fair," Harry says. "I'll trade you."

George's nose wrinkles in that way the girls have been giffing all over Tumblr. "I don't think time works how you two think time works."

"Well, isn't someone Doctor Who," Louis grunts, still holding Harry down.

"That isn't his _name_ ," George and Harry say as one. "He's just The Doctor."

"Oh my god," Louis groans, wilting against the bar so Harry can stand up, gasping a little and shaking out his fringe. "Geeks. You're all geeks. I'm surrounded by geeks who I had thought were fit blokes and instead they're just -- geeks."

"It's possible to be a fit geek," George points out. He's trying to feel less overjoyed that Louis keeps calling him fit, reminding himself that most everyone has been calling him fit over the past month or so, but he can feel himself flush with the flattery. 

Louis points an accusing finger at him. "No, it isn't. Stop confusing me while I'm drunk, it's not on."

"Louis doesn't believe in thinking," Harry informs George, and nods knowingly. "Even when he's sober."

"Shut up, you." Louis pushes his face up into Harry's neck again like a needy kitten and George has to smile at that, his cheeks dimpling. He wonders why they don't want everyone to see them like this. It's kind of ridiculously adorable -- but Harry's fingertips are still playing at the gap between Louis' waistband and the soft skin beneath his shirt's hem, and it makes George feel a little hot and confused himself because it's like Harry needs Louis to be out of his clothes even while they're wearing them and talking to a stranger.

"He's doing better drunk than I do," George admits, still watching the play of Harry's fingers on Louis’ skin. "I just turn into a bit of a mess. Words are too much for me."

"Well, I'd love to see that." Louis sighs, and it seems wistful. He can't really be that upset about it, can he? "Stupid house rules. We didn't follow those, did we, love?" He pats Harry's stomach absently. "Awful at following direction, really."

"Was that a pun?" George asks curiously.

Harry's eyes light up. "I like you! Lou, I like him."

Louis raises an eyebrow and peers up at Harry, and George watches with some trepidation as they seem to have a silent conversation with flicks of their eyes and little darts of their eyebrows.

Then Louis stands up and grabs George's wrist. "Right. You should dance with us. Come on. Show us everything Brian's taught you this week."

"I," begins George with a bit of alarm. "I don't, I'm not very good. I sort of just. Sway." It's cause for frustration with the rest of the band. "And like, I can shuffle my feet in rhythm."

Louis' teeth glow white. "It's cute because he thinks we mean dancing."

Harry flicks Louis' ear. "Don't scare him off."

"I'm not _scared_ ," George protests. He sets the glass he's been fiddling with on the bar. "Right, let's go, then," he says firmly. If they really do mean -- the sort of dancing it sounds like they mean, he can do that. He can definitely do that. He grasps Louis’ other wrist and gives him a look he hopes is challenging and not just wide-eyed.

"Good," Harry says in what's almost a rumble, his voice has gone so low. "Nothing to be scared of, is there?"

" _Your_ dancing?" Louis asks, leading both of the others out into the thick of the crowd, "Only broken ribs and maybe a ruptured... appendix. I forgot organs. Doesn't matter; dance time now."

Harry smiles indulgently at Louis -- then steps up behind George. He's a little taller than George is, which is unusual because he's become used to being the tallest in the room over the last few weeks, unless Rylan is there, and Harry's shoulders are broader than he looks at the outset.

He doesn't have much time to focus on that, though, because Louis is crowding in front of him, and he's shorter than George but it doesn't feel like it when he's this close. George can practically feel the heat of Louis’ skin, and he can definitely feel Harry's where he's pressed against George's back.

"Hello," murmurs Louis. It's too loud around them for George to hear it, but Louis is so close to him that George can see the word on his lips. He begins to move subconsciously as he feels Harry's hips swing behind him.

"Y'alright?" Harry's lips are close enough to George's ear that he can feel the hush of his breath. Harry's arms snake around George's waist so his fingers can hook into Louis' belt loops, hauling him up tighter against George's body. Louis grins wolfishly and rests his own hands on George's waist, but George is kind of focusing on keeping his heart rate normal and his own arms are hanging leaden until Louis rolls his eyes and lifts George's hands himself to settle them on the round of his arse. George swallows.

"Harry, I think he's having a heart attack," Louis reports. "What do we do?"

"I'm not," George protests, and clears his throat. "I'm not, I'm just -- don't want to -- you two are -- each other, and I'm. Extra. Don't want to overstep."

"You aren't going to overstep," Harry says into his ear. He presses his lips below George's ear, and it's not quite a kiss but George has no idea what else he would call it. Louis’ eyes are fixed there, though, dark and still sparkling a little. He tucks his fingers up underneath George's shirt, letting them rest above the waist of his jeans and then raising his eyebrows like George is going to be stupid enough to tell him to move away.

Louis gives him a smile, pleased. "Good. Yeah?" His thumbs brush over George's hip bones.

George's heart keeps racing a little, but he nods. 

"Don't pretend you're so innocent," Harry whispers. "Caroline already told me all about Vegas. _All_ of the new bandmates in two days? You're quite bad. So are they, to be fair, that's a bit much."

George's breath hitches. "T'be fair, I don't pretend to be innocent." He licks his lips. "People see my face and just assume things." He tilts his head back a little so that he can see Harry's face. "And then I don't correct them." 

Louis laughs quietly, his breath soft against George's neck. "Of course you don't. That'd take all the fun out of it."

"It is fun, isn't it?" Harry grins. "I used to be able to play that game. Then I said 'pussy' on television. Don't do that, Georgie. It ruins everything."

George and Louis both snort a laugh, and Harry gives a little annoyed growl in the back of his throat before he hips up closer to George, pressing harder against him like it's a punishment to be covered in Harry Styles all warm and hard against his back.

Louis seems amused by Harry's insistence, the look on his face rather fond as he grips George's hips tighter to press him back against Harry. George could've done that himself, thanks, but the noise Harry makes in his ear is worth the slight indignation. George rocks his hips back a little more, and if he's going to do this, he's going to do it right. He leans his head back onto Harry's shoulder and rolls his hips forward.

Louis' thigh shifts and suddenly he's pressing it up just right between George's legs, and George can't help sighing a little because it really has been ages -- almost since Judges' Houses -- and Louis and Harry are surrounding him with the heady smell of boy and alcohol and sweat and breath and Harry's long-fingered hands have moved, no longer holding Louis up against George and instead slipping their way up into the front of George's t-shirt to pet teasingly at his soft, flat stomach.

"Cute," Harry murmurs in his ear. "You're all little."

"Not where it counts," George retorts, feeling his cheeks flush. He had been to the gym exactly four times ever, and having seen photos of Harry Styles in a bathing suit, and feeling him now, he's a little self-conscious.

Harry laughs into his neck. "I'd like to see that for myself, if you don't mind," he says as he'd say anything else, like he's not propositioning George right there in front of his -- boyfriend? Partner? George isn't sure. Though, considering Louis is still moving his thigh against George in these little teasing circles, George has to think Louis doesn't mind very much.

"I don't mind," he answers after a moment, turning his head a bit and feeling regretful when he can't quite see Harry.

Harry seems to know what he's thinking, though, somehow, and he mutters against George's neck, "Lou, kiss him, I can't from here."

Louis licks his lip and smiles. His blue eyes are big and still swimming with gin even as the heat of the club makes them all shine with sweat and lose some of their drunk swagger. "I thought you'd never ask."

He touches George's jaw with his fingertips and it's surprisingly gentle, almost tender, as he tilts George's face down so their lips can meet.

George thinks, maybe, maybe Louis is trying not to scare him off. Maybe Louis’ trying not to scare himself off; George has no idea if they've ever done this before. He feels like they must have, though, to be so confident about it. And this kiss is confident as well, even as chaste as it is. Louis seems very sure of himself, but George wants him to know that he doesn't need to be so careful with him. He closes his eyes, opening his mouth to lightly bite down on the plump of Louis’ lower lip.

In his ear, Harry makes a sound like a giggle that's caught in his throat. George hopes that's a good sign, and decides it must be as Harry tightens his grip at George's waist and presses against him a little more.

"That looks really good," Harry praises him gently, hot lips pressing up beneath George's ear again. Harry's mouth drags down and he kisses his way down the back of George's neck towards the join of his shoulder, and it makes George shiver. The last time someone had sucked kisses over the back of his neck like that had been JJ at Judges' Houses, and he'd been the last of the three.

Louis still tastes like gin, and George is determined to lick that taste out of his mouth. He settles a hand at the back of Louis’ neck and squeezes, earning an approving noise from Louis against his lips. It was already warm in the club, but it feels a million degrees warmer sandwiched between Harry and Louis with both of their mouths on him. Warmer, but definitely better.

Harry's fingers are still under George's shirt, have been running soft, zinging circuits over his stomach, but George jumps, biting down hard enough to make Louis hiss as Harry's fingertips find their way to just barely above the elastic of George's boxer-briefs. The head of his hard cock is peeking out from the waistband, trapped against his belly, and Harry runs his thumb over the slit. George can feel him smirking against his neck.

"Oh," George sighs, his breath all seeming to rush out of him at once. Louis looks a little perplexed until he glances down, and then he's smirking, too. 

"How's that feel?" he asks George, kissing the corner of his mouth. It's a laugh that he thinks George can actually respond. "Bet it feels nice. You've got good hands, Harry."

"Bit of a surprise," George manages to squeak. His cock blurts a smear of precome over Harry's thumb and George's face glows red. "I'd rather not humiliate myself before tomorrow night, if it's -- all the same to you."

Harry smiles with his dimples at full wattage and obeys, taking away the heat of his hand. Louis' eyes go dark and hungry as Harry licks his thumb clean. "Somewhere else, then?"

"Loo?" Louis asks. "Not ideal, but works in a pinch."

"I don't have any stuff on me," Harry says. "I wasn't expecting this one to be here and we've everything at the house."

"Erm," George offers, "There's the hotel. Where we're living. It's just a few blocks up and there's an ASDA on the way."

"Well, if there's an ASDA." Louis sounds like he might be making fun of George, but he's still smiling, so maybe that's just what his voice sounds like. "Could we get stuff without being noticed, d'you think?" he asks Harry with raised eyebrows.

"We could go one at a time," Harry says thoughtfully. "They'll just assume I'm stocking up for this weekend's eleven women, so. I can do it."

Louis' face really does look stormy this time, but Harry gives Louis' hip a reassuring squeeze.

"S'pose that's not true, then," George mutters. "Good to know the papers are as rubbish as I thought they were."

"Much more rubbish, actually," Louis assures him. Harry seems to have calmed him down a bit, and he actually smiles, though it's a bit sharp. "So you know what you're getting into."

"The papers are already reporting that I'm literally the time-traveling arsebaby of two men, one younger than me," George says dryly. "I'm pretty sure I figured that out."

They both actually laugh at that, and Louis says again, "I do like him. I like this one."

"Good to know. Are we going, then?" George says. He doesn't mean to be impatient, but there are precisely zero hands where he'd like them, and he really really wants there to be.

"Eager," Harry teases, pinching the skin of George's hip lightly. George nearly whines, but swallows it down. There's no need to show them exactly how eager he is.

Louis glances between Harry and George. "I'll go first," he offers. "Corinthia, right?"

"Yeah," George says. "Erm, Josh might be in the room -- just... kick him out if he is."

"Will do," Louis says.

Josh might hate him for that, but he'll get over it. And even if he doesn't, it won't be much different from how he behaves toward George already, so there's no loss. The others would understand, he thinks.

George sighs with loss when he has to remove his hands from Louis’ body. He's all compact and solid and lovely underneath George's fingers and he just wants to touch him as long as he can. He reminds himself that he'll get to touch more in a while, and he needs to be patience, but his cock doesn't seem to think that's acceptable, still achingly hard below his waist.

Louis tilts his face up to kiss George's throat once, just over his Adam's apple, then moves to kiss Harry's mouth. George watches as they both smile a little into their kiss and melt easily into each other, and he knows, for his own comfort, that -- he has to ask. Before, not after.

When Louis turns to leave, Harry bites his lip and doesn't hide the way he's watching Louis' arse. George can't blame him: it really is the most ridiculous arse he's ever seen on a man, and almost the best he's ever seen on a person, full-stop.

Once he's gone, Harry turns to George and grins. "My turn."

He cups one hand over the back of George's neck and kisses him, greedy now that they have an understanding that George isn't running away. Harry kisses like a hurricane, and George fists his hands into Harry's shirt to keep standing.

When Harry pulls back to catch his breath, George blurts out, "What are you and Louis? I don't want -- to mess things up for you."

To his relief and confusion, Harry laughs a little. "You're not that cute, love," Harry says, stroking his fingers over George's jaw and giving him another chaste kiss. "I'm not sure there's a word. Louis and I are Louis and I. You're not going to mess that up. Promise."

He looks entirely sincere, which does set the nerves jangling in George's stomach a bit at ease. Still... "You're sure? If this is going to be some sort of -- homewrecker thing, or something, I'd really rather not."

"Well, first, I can say with total sincerity that we have made it work through a fuck of a lot worse than having a threesome with a cute twinky popstar," Harry says, "And second, we wouldn't be doing it if we didn't both want to. Don't stress about it. If you don't want to anymore, then -- well, just accept that we're coopting your hotel room for the night and no hard feelings. Otherwise, just enjoy it."

That sounds like a fantastic idea to George. "I think I will, then," he says, leaning up to kiss Harry again. "When's the opportunity going to come around again?" he asks against his lips before shutting up and kissing him properly.

Harry's a very good kisser, not that George had expected anything else. He doesn't want to stop at all, but Harry seems to have other plans, pulling back even as George tries to catch his lips again.

"I think you ought to head to the hotel, just in case Louis' decided to do something terrible to your roommate to claim the room," Harry says. "And I've got stuff to buy. At ASDA," he adds, smirking, and George knows this time that he's being made fun of a bit. Harry gives his lip a last nip and backs up to shake out his hair and prepare for the barrage of photographs that inevitable await him outside. "I'll see you in a few."

He walks a few paces towards the door, then turns back to George with his eyes sparkling. He glances meaningfully at George's waist. "Fix your shirt before you go outside."

George looks down and sees that the shiny head of his dick is still out over the button on his fly, and he blushes fiercely as he tugs his shirt down over it. Harry walks away backwards, watching him and laughing with his head thrown back.

He's awful and beautiful and George sighs, bracing himself to try to appear a little less like he's more aroused than he's ever been. It's no use trying to get the color on his face to go down, as he knows it'll stay no matter what he does, and so the most he can do is take a few calming breaths and try not to smash into anyone.

Once he thinks it's been a sufficient amount of time, he begins slipping through the crowd to make his way to the door. He figures most of the people with cameras will have followed Louis or Harry, but there are still a few lingering when he steps out into the cool night air.

George ducks his head as the bulbs go off, not many but certainly more than he's used to dealing with on a daily basis. Why would they be more interested in him than One Direction? It makes no sense, but they don't follow him, and soon enough it's just him making his way down the pavement.

When he gets to the hotel, Josh is hanging out on the front step with Charlie and Greg. He gives George a flat look. "Really?"

George shrugs. "You weren't complaining about my penchant for fucking boy bands when it was Triple J."

Charlie hoots and claps her hands, bouncing on her toes. "I want to watch!"

"You'd have to run that past them," George says, smiling, "But I think it's a no, sorry."

He drops a kiss to the top of her head as he passes, and accidentally knocks into Josh. Mostly accidentally, anyway. He'd stay longer because he really does adore that girl, but it's been _ages_ and there is at least one very attractive man lounging in his room, so he just pushes open the door to the hotel.

Harry's managed to beat him back to the hotel. It's a banal thought to be the first through his head when he opens his door to the sight of Louis Tomlinson spread out naked on the bed with Harry Styles looming over him, two fingers already tucked inside, but it's still the first to flit through George's mind. Harry's still dressed, and it makes Louis look all the more filthy.

Louis spots him almost immediately, a breathless grin curling his lips. "Hey," he greets before he trails off into a groan.

"Took you long enough," says Harry. His eyes are wide and his pupils have about taken them over. "Come here."

George is all ready to defend his late arrival, but any protest dies in his throat at that. He swallows, forcing his feet to move one in front of the other until he can kneel down on the bed.

"Help me out," Harry murmurs. He cocks his chin. "Lube's on the bedside table."

George knows he's staring. He's been around this carousel more than his fair share, but Louis Tomlinson is like, _really_ beautiful. His skin is all-over brown and warm and he's got good pecs and his biceps are kind of huge and impressive and George really hopes that at some point, Louis will use them to hold him down so he can't move at all and just let them do whatever they want to him. He's got his legs wide for Harry and George both to kneel between them and his toes are curling into the blankets. 

George slicks up his fingers and bites his lip as Harry sets his mouth against George's shoulder in a not-quite kiss. He eases one of his own fingers into Louis right alongside where Harry's still got two, and Louis hisses, fucking down against their hands.

"God," George mutters, unable to move his eyes away.

Harry just laughs a little, nosing at George's neck. "I know," he says simply, twisting his fingers against George's. "He's gorgeous, isn't he?" Harry sounds proud, more than anything else, like he's happy to be showing off how good Louis looks like this. George feels privileged, almost, to be able to see it.

"Put another one in, please?" Louis says through gasps, his head dropping back against the pillow when George slides another one in beside the other three he and Harry have inside Louis. Their fingers work in tandem, Harry's in when George's are out and then vice versa. Louis never stops moaning, his hips twitching up in little increments that George can't stop wanting to make happen more.

"Can I suck you off?" George asks, licking his lip as he watches Louis' body move. He's kind of amazed that Louis hasn't come yet, if he's being honest, because he'd be gone by now. If Louis is gorgeous on his own, Louis with Harry's hands on him is godlike.

"I'd be a madman to turn that down, wouldn't I?" Louis says in return. He reaches a hand down to pass his thumb over George's lips. "You've got a lovely mouth. Almost as lovely as Hazza's." George takes it as a compliment. With the look Louis gives Harry after that, he has to assume Louis doesn't think anyone's got a better anything than Harry.

Harry smiles indulgently -- and must do something wicked with his fingers, because Louis' head drop back against the pillows and he gives a low, broken groan. 

George licks his lips again and scoots up closer so he can lean down and nuzzle at the base of Louis' cock, sucking a kiss over the vein. There's a little jolt in all of Louis' muscles and George knows that there's a streak of precome in his fringe now.

There are other things to think about, though, like how to make Louis feel as good as he possibly can. It's good it hasn't been too long since the last time George did this, because this would be an awful occasion to be out of practice. 

He trails his tongue up, letting it lie broad and flat until he reaches the head of Louis’ dick, which he fits his lips around. He sucks lightly, once, his eyes on Louis to gauge his reactions. He looks like he's enjoying it, if the way he's panting is any indication.

"You can do better than that," Harry challenges. His voice is so soft and silken that it's almost inaudible beneath Louis' whimpering gasps, but it makes George flush hot and redouble his efforts, sliding half of Louis' prick into his mouth and drawing letters with his tongue as he sucks.

"Fuck, Harry," Louis pants, and his hands tangle their way into George's hair, "You've got to try this -- _jesus_."

George doesn't mind people touching his hair as long as they aren't pulling it, and Louis is mostly just coaxing him down, so George lets him. He takes in as much as he can, breathing heavily through his nose and, once he remembers them, rocking his fingers inside Louis.

Louis grunts and pushes George's head down, hard, and George's eyes water before Harry reaches out and eases Louis' hands away from his head so he can come up, panting.

"Lou, he can't fuck up his throat," Harry chastises him. "He's got the show tomorrow. Be nice."

"Yeah, be nice," George rasps, rubbing his throat. He swipes his wrist over the spit dripping down his chin and coughs once, then clears his throat. "Better?" he asks. From what he can hear, most of the fuzziness has gone, but Harry'd probably be able to tell more easily than him.

"You sound like me," Harry informs him. "I guess it completes the illusion."

"Har har," George laughs dryly. He gives his fingers a punishing twist inside Louis. "Can you control yourself if I go down again?"

"I'll be good," answers Louis in the same wry tone. He fists his hands in the duvet, raising his eyebrows hopefully.

"I hope so, can't be telling Louis Walsh I can't sing my solo because Louis Tomlinson fucked my throat too hard," George mutters, ducking his head to take Louis back into his mouth.

"He'd probably like you even better, if I'm honest," Harry says, and this time George has to pull back because he's torn between gagging and busting up.

"Can we not, please?" he laughs. "I'm gonna be _haunted_ now that he's a Louis, too."

"There's only one Louis that matters right now, babe, and if you don't get your mouth back on his cock he's going to be very upset." Louis does, indeed, sound quite grumpy. "Me, by the way. I'm talking about me."

George gives a little shudder all the same, but leans down to drop kisses over Louis' stomach and get his head back in the game.

"Just like that," murmurs Louis, his fingers stroking over George's hair again. This time he just rests his hand there, though, so George lets him as he hums around the dick in his mouth. He tries to time his mouth with the fingers he has thrusting into Louis, but he can't really focus on both at once, especially since Harry's free hand his running its way up and down George's back now, his fingers massaging into the tense muscles and coaxing them lax. George groans a little around Louis' cock and Louis' hand tenses in George's hair, but he doesn't push him down again. Harry's hand slowly works its way around to George's side, and Harry's hands are so big that the tip of his longest finger brushes over the nub of George's nipple through his shirt.

George imagines Harry could do a lot with those hands, and he'd like almost all of it. His lips are starting to feel raw, slick and he's sure they've gone a deeper pink than they usually are. He gives up on his fingers, simply pressing them into Louis as deep as he can and then leaving them there as Harry's hand slips down underneath the cotton of his t-shirt.

"Can't wait to get you naked," Harry murmurs, just loud enough that George can hear it over his own obscene, sloppy slurping. "Wanna work you over every inch. D'you want me to fuck you? You can fuck Louis, look at him, he's gagging for it. You should make him come on your face and he can watch while I fuck you, and then you can get a ride from him. He's so good, George, 's gonna blow your mind."

George swallows involuntarily, causing Louis to make a really interesting noise. He really should've expected Harry would have a dirty mouth, but it's different to think about it and then to actually experience it. All he knows is that he wants all of that, and he's pretty sure he'll do anything Harry wants him to if he keeps asking for it in that voice.

"Let him come on your face," Harry repeats. He's got his hand well up inside George's t-shirt now and George squeaks a bit when Harry pinches his nipple hard. "You're so pretty... I wanna see it dripping from your eyelashes."

Okay, if that's a thing for Harry, George supposes he might as well. He's had bad experiences with this before, gotten substances in his eye he'd have prefered not to, but he's hardly going to say no.

He gives Louis’ cock one last slow suck before he pulls off to lick his lips, wrapping his hand around the base and jerking up quickly, letting his saliva ease the way.

" _Oh, fuck_ ," Louis hisses, and there's a moment that George can feel Louis' abs jumping and tightening and then --

George jumps, his eyes wincing shut just in time for the warm splatter across his cheek and, to Harry's certain delight, over his eyelid and into his eyelashes.

"Let me see," Harry demands, and George opens the other eye to take in Harry's dark, open expression. Harry's jaw is slack and he stares, eyes hungry, before he leans in and kisses George's messy cheek, pulling away with white on his tongue.

"That's a thing for you, then?" George asks, his voice lower than it usually is. If he's honest, it's a bit of a thing for him as well, the way Harry's gone all predatory on him, the feeling of his tongue against George's skin.

"Mmm-hmm," Harry breathes, and then he's kissing George, pushing his tongue into George's mouth there's bitter and salt and Harry's hands are desperate now as he works George's t-shirt up.

It's much more work than it should be to get the shirt off, and George curses as he has to separate from Harry to do it. Once it's off, though, he connects their lips again, sucking the taste of Louis off of Harry's tongue.

Harry's hands are at George's hips, which means it must be Louis’ fingers tucking underneath the waist of George's trousers. "Let's get these off, you won't be needing them," Louis murmurs, managing to sound cheeky even when he also sounds so satisfied. George doesn't want to stop kissing Harry ever, really, but he has to, to twist and get his jeans all the way off.

Once they're gone, Louis pushes him back against the pillows, nudging underneath his jaw to give him a sneaky love bite and then settling back, George assumes to watch the show.

Harry's fingers trace the edge of George's pants, tugging them down enough that his tan line shows faint against his waist and then pulling them down the rest of the way.

Harry stares down at George's body, smiling just faintly enough not to be unnerving. "Look how cute he is, Lou. We picked a good one."

"My taste in men is excellent," Louis agrees. He brushes George's hair out of his face with adoring fingers, then rubs his thumb beneath one of George's eyes. "Look at you, all messy. You're a contradiction." He leans down and captures George's mouth in a kiss; George's lips are already sore and he knows that they've barely begun.

When Louis pulls back and George opens his eyes again, Harry is finally naked, too, and he looks every bit as impressive as those photos on that boat had made him seem: he's got muscle on muscle where George just has skin and bone, and the underside of Harry's left arm is a mosaic of black tattoos and blue bruises that, George realizes now, are all in the shape of Louis' thumb and teeth.

He looks like a fucking god, and George has to remind himself that he wouldn't be here if they didn't find him attractive. As it is, he has to stop himself from pinching his wrist or something to make sure this is real.

Instead of doing that, he reaches over to touch Harry's thigh, warm and a bit damp as George strokes his knuckles over his skin. "You're like, unreal, mate," he murmurs, biting his lip a little and looking up at Harry through his fringe.

Harry grins, but his cheeks go just half a shade pink and it helps to remind George that he really isn't the 415th person this month to see Harry like this.

"I wasn't when I was on X Factor," Harry offers. "I like was, well runty. And I had a gut."

"Shut it," says Louis, giving Harry a firm smack on the arse. "You know you've always been gorgeous. Don't be stupid."

As George watches, Harry glows under the praise. It's absurdly cute, whatever these two are.

George bites his lip, and he doesn't want to ask, he doesn't want to talk, he just wants to get on with it and let Harry inside him, but the words spill out anyway. 

"How long was it when you got put in a band before you started to feel like you -- belonged?"

Harry and Louis exchange a look. Harry clears his throat, but it's Louis who speaks. 

"Honestly?" he says, not a hint of joking in his voice now. "About two days. We all just fell into each other and never fell back out. You can't base -- you, on that, though," he warns, rubbing George's thigh. "It's different for everyone."

George nods quickly, swallowing and trying to look quite strong and not bothered. It doesn't bother him, anyway. It doesn't. JJ is nice to him, anyway, and -- well, that's a whole third right there, and Jaymi isn't like, cruel or anything. They were perfectly sweet with him in Vegas.

"Oh, love," murmurs Harry, rubbing little circles on George's stomach. "It'll all work out, you know. It'll be brilliant."

"You can come join our band, if you want," Louis offers. "We'll chuck Harry out, nobody likes him anyway."

Harry sulks. "Nick already calls you New Harry every time he sees a photo."

Louis' eyebrows clinch and he pinches Harry's thigh. "Hey. What's the rule?"

"No mentioning Nick while we're naked," Harry says promptly, looking abashed, and George can't help barking out a laugh so hard he has to sit up or risk choking again and hurting his throat.

"Good boy." Louis looks pleased and George thinks it's because Harry's so very good at remembering rules, but then he notices the way Louis’ eyes keep flicking toward him and flushes.

"Speaking of naked. Er. We are," George points out. "We could be doing something about that."

Harry's blush fades and he raises one eyebrow, considering George spread out in front of him again on the already-damp sheets. "That's very true... I do remember saying something about doing... something. I think it was 'you.'"

George has to try very hard not to laugh. Louis is not under the same compulsion, apparently, because he's rolling on the sheets a little with the force of his laughter.

"You're awful, Harry, you're the worst," he says, reaching over to pinch Harry's bum. "Look at how nice he is, pretending you aren't an idiot. It's so pretty. He wants it so bad he's willing to deal with... you." Louis stops laughing then, although his eyes are still dancing with mirth. "You do want it so bad, don't you, George? Want Harry to fuck you?"

George nods, and the air in the room condenses again from the lightness of laughter into a cloud of sex and want and George has been hot for fucking _ages_ and Harry's huge even though he's still got a ways to go before he's hard enough to fuck George, the talk and laughter having deflated him a bit. Even so, George can already tell that he's never taken anyone as big as Harry, and he's equal measures excited and nervous about it.

"Yeah," he breathes. "I really do. Erm, I also... Louis, I want you to hold me down. During."

There's a pause and then laughter from Louis, almost incredulous. "You're amazing, did you know?" he asks, shuffling up to the head of the bed. "I'd be all too happy to hold you down, love," he says as he curls his fingers around George's wrists. "Like that? Or tighter?"

"Can you hold my arms, actually?" George asks. "I want bruises I can focus on tomorrow to stop being nervous."

"Jesus," mutters Louis, his expression still half-alarmed. He slides his hands down George's arms until he's gripping just below the crooks of his elbows. "There?" he checks, looking down at George.

George nods, and his eyes glow dark. He likes this, when he's with guys -- likes to be thrown around a little or held down or, if he weren't singing live on national television tomorrow, getting his air cut off just a little, only enough to make his ears ring a bit. It relaxes his brain to give control over to someone else, and -- well, he did go to that club tonight looking for a release and a way to relax his brain to stop it spinning with worries about the show and their godawful song.

"Ohh," Louis says under his breath, his hold tightening. "Oh, Harry, he's so pretty like this, I love it." He bites his lip, his hips rutting against the sheets.

"He's pretty every way we've seen him," Harry argues mildly. George's heart picks up speed as Harry holds his gaze, staring him down even as he reaches over to the bedside table and slicks lube onto his fingers. "Can you imagine the votes you'd get if everyone could see you like this right now, begging and naked and about to get spread open for cock... spunk all over your face. You'd have everyone eating out of the palm of your hand." 

He leans down and kisses George's hip, right inside the constellation of freckles that dot over the hollow of his hip bone. "But you don't want that right now, do you, don't want people to do things for you, want us to do things _to_ you, don't you? I could just put my cock in right now straight off if I wanted. Oh -- " Harry laughs, low and dark -- "Maybe you want that, you just opened your legs right up for me, didn't you. Like it when it hurts a bit?"

George bites his lip and nods. "Not -- like, that much hurting would, but. I like being full."

"I bet you do," Harry murmurs, and licks around the crown of George's cock. "Taking all your bandmates in one weekend. Jesus."

"Thought it might help," George gasps, his hips jerking before he can stop them. "Make them like me, or -- Fuck," he moans. "Please? I want you."

George feels Louis’ fingers flex against his skin, and wonders if it's from him or from Harry's talking. Jesus, he can't imagine sleeping with Harry on a regular basis. He thinks his cock would fall off, or he'd burn up on the inside from constant arousal.

"Shh," Harry soothes him, and then -- there's one finger easing up into George and he groans, relaxing into Louis' grip. "We've got you."

"You're alright," Louis adds, kissing George's shoulder. "Harry's gonna fill you up and it's going to feel amazing, babe," he murmurs low into George's ear. "More full than you've ever felt, promise."

George can't speak, so he just nods and whimpers a little, shifting on the bed and digging his heels in. Harry tucks a second finger in right away because George had said he liked a little hurt, and George whimpers again, holding tight to the sheets because they're all he can reach with Louis holding his arms down. 

Harry's fingers are crossed and he works them slowly, because there's a difference between good-hurt and bad-hurt and -- maybe it's none of his, but he kind of thinks maybe George has been hurt enough lately. When the tendoms stretching in George's neck relax and he isn't tensed so tight against Harry's hand, trying to keep him out, Harry starts to scissor his fingers open, just fluttering.

"You want another?" he asks, glancing up at George's face.

George bites his lip. There's a bit of a burn because there's always a bit of a burn, but he really, really wants Harry's cock, and if he can't have that yet, fingers are the next best thing. Harry's got lovely fingers, long and thin and they know what they're doing. He nods, then says, "Yeah, yeah, another."

"He's good, isn't he?" Louis whispers in his ear, and his hands tighten around George's arms in a reassuring squeeze. "I always love it. Maybe next time you can see what it's like when he gives you all four... or one with his cock, that's good too if you can take it." Louis kisses the side of George's face. "But not today. I still get to have you after he's done and I don't want you too wrecked to function."

Something warm blooms in George's chest, and it isn't just from the tickle of Harry's lips as he kisses along the insides of George's thighs to distract from the spread of three fingers curling inside him.

"Please," George whispers, unsure of what he's begging for but sure that it's something he needs. "I -- I, please." He strains for the first time against Louis’ hands, needing to feel the pressure of it as Louis’ hands flex to keep him pinned. Harry's fingers are thick inside him but he can tell they'll be nothing compared to his dick. George wants that. He wants to feel how massive Harry's going to be inside him and he wants it _now_. "Please," he says louder.

"Are you sure?" Harry sounds a little doubtful, but when George nods, Harry just drags his lips over the ticklish side of George's knee again and slowly takes his fingers away. George watches with shallow breath as Harry rolls a condom on and slicks it up with a dime of lube.

Louis presses his lips behind George's ear. "He's really big, not that he needs the ego boost," he whispers. "No shame in it if you need a bit more prep."

"I'm fine," George murmurs back, tossing his head to flick his sweaty fringe from his eyes. "I want it."

Louis narrows his eyes, and maybe George should take the warning a little more seriously since Louis is obviously well-acquainted with the dimensions of Harry's dick, but he can't -- he needs this, because he might never get another chance to have a night like this and if he thinks about that too much, about how his entire future hinges on tomorrow night, then he'll get stressed out again and what he really needs right now is to relax and stay loose.

"If you're sure," Louis finally says, giving Harry a little nod to go ahead. "Give him what he wants, Harry."

Harry positions himself and then presses forward, and it only takes a second for George to decide that Louis was very, very right. He's used to a bit of pain when he gets fucked, there's no way for it not to be painful, but this is sort of -- beyond. He's grinding his teeth hard when he hears Louis quickly telling Harry to stop.

"I know," Harry says, and his voice sounds strained. "But I don't want to baby him. George what -- I don't know what you -- what'd'you want me to do?"

"Just," George gasps, his toes curling. "Just give me a minute. You're a bit bigger than I was expecting."

"Told you he doesn't need his ego stroked," says Louis, rubbing George's chest a bit. "He knows he's massive."

George would laugh, but he can't get enough breath into his lungs at the moment. He takes a few seconds just to breathe and to blink and then he notices Louis' soft hands rubbing over his chest and his ribs and he croaks, "You let go."

"Well, yeah," Louis says. "I didn't want -- didn't want you to feel like you have to just lie there and take it if it hurts."

"No, hold on," George asks, "Please? Helps. I promise."

"Is this like the last time you told me it was fine, because I'll be honest, I'm not big on your honesty," mutters Louis, but he grips George's arms again anyway. "And you'll tell me if it's too much?"

"It is fine," George swears, just a little bit sulkily. He tips his head up so he can meet Harry's eyes, too, where Harry's still holding himself over George, arms trembling a little to keep himself so still. "It's fine, really. Just my previous understanding of 'big cock' was not up to Harry Styles' snuff."

Harry laughs quietly. "Tried to warn you. Sorry." He lets out a slow breath and shifts a little. "You alright now? Need me to pull out?"

George shakes his head, and Louis gives him a wan look. George shakes his head more surely. "No, I'm -- just _really_ slow, okay? Just at first."

"Yeah, of course," Harry says, and he eases down onto his forearms instead of holding himself up at the hands so he can stay closer to George's body and his face, able to feel and hear how George is breathing and how tense his muscles are against the pain.

"You're okay," Harry murmurs, and he tips his face to kiss George's collarbone gently.

George smiles, unable to stop it. He tries to kiss Harry's head in return but only manages a mouthful of curls. "Yeah, m'okay. You can move a bit, if you want."

"You're sure?" Harry asks as he shifts his hips very slightly.

It hurts less than it did before, and George isn't sure if that's because he's relaxed more of if he's just loosened up more, but whatever the reason, he's grateful. He still wants Harry to go slow, though. Of course, he is, because he's lovely. George hums as Harry moves forward in the tiniest increments.

Louis looks down at the tempered contentment on George's face (now that he doesn't feel like he's being stabbed with a pickaxe) and pulls a face. "You're weird. Harry, he's weird."

"Yep," George answers, and sighs. There's a change in pressure and both George and Harry murmur a little, shifting together. "Louis, hold tighter, please."

"Weird," Louis mutters again, but he tightens his grip all the same. "Apparently I only sleep with weirdoes, now."

"You like it," says George as he blinks up at Louis. He offers him a grin and then groans as Harry sinks in a bit more.

"I think you like _that_ ," is Louis’ reply, managing to be smug and nonchalant at the same time. "Don't you?"

George's eyes flutter shut as Harry pushes forward again with intent this time, not enough to hurt but enough to make a definite difference in the depth and the angle and George does feel full, already, but from the way Harry's arms are still shaking, he can tell there's more to go. "Mmm-hmm."

"You feel so good," Harry praises him breathlessly, and kisses down the length of George's neck, measuring George's jackrabbit pulse with his lips. "You're doing so good."

George whines, tipping his head back to let Harry have more room. His breathing is loud even when he tries to quiet it down and he can't believe there's more of Harry still to come when he already feels as full as he's ever been.

"Gorgeous," breathes Louis, smudging kisses into George's jawline. "So gorgeous like this."

"Yeah," George agrees, and he's not even sure what he's agreeing to, he just knows he feels good and he's covered in boys and Harry is so sturdy and hot and George can tell he's being so, so careful now and it makes his breath catch a little under his heart and Louis -- has a knack for being unbelievably filthy at the same time as sweet and George can feel that his arms are, really, bruising under the crush of Louis' fingers and it feels so... exactly what he needed.

"Can I kiss you?" Louis whispers, squeezing George's arms. "I won't let go, I promise. I’ll keep you held tight. I just need to kiss you, okay? Can I?"

George nods and tries to lift his face for Louis to be able to reach more easily and all he gets his an eyeful of hair for his trouble.

"Harry, move your giant head," Louis murmurs, and all three of them share a tiny, ecstatic, breathless laugh. Harry moves his head out of the way and Louis bends down to touch his lips to George's once, twice, before George whimpers and follows Louis' mouth as it moves away again. Louis smiles before kissing him properly. The taste of gin is gone from his mouth, and George knows that all Louis can taste on his mouth is the faint remnants of his own come.

Louis has to half sprawl over George to keep his grip on George's arms, but that's alright, Louis feels lovely all warm and solid above him as Harry fucks into him so firm and strong as well. Harry's still being gentle about it, or at least gentler than George is used to. He hooks his ankles behind Harry's thighs to urge him on.

"Come on, doesn't hurt now," George sighs. It still burns, a little, but he likes that, wants to keep it. "Harder, please?"

“Are you absolutely sure?" Harry asks, "'Cause you can't have a lie-in tomorrow if you're all... broken."

"I know that," George says, "I'm fine now, really. Come on, fuck me proper."

"Fuck him proper, Harry, it's the only way he can keep his mouth shut." Louis kisses George's chin. "Well, shut to talk," he amends. "I wouldn't mind it open to do other things." He laughs at his own joke and then licks back into George's mouth, eager for it.

George groans as Harry thrusts into him, building a steady rhythm. He's far from slamming into George and rattling the headboard, but there's so much of him that it feels to George like his bones are rattling anyway and he tries to pull his arms away to feel how all of Harry's muscles are moving and working but Louis keeps his promise. He holds George's arms down, and George whimpers, loving it, left with only his thighs to wrap around Harry's trim waist.

"God, he's fucking amazing," Harry groans, shifting the angle of his thrusts. It _feels_ amazing to George, like he can't quite keep up and he wants that, the uncertainty, how deep Harry's fucking him and how he can't tell when Harry's next movement is going to be, especially when Louis’ kissing him this intensely.

"Lou, we should keep him," Harry mutters, and he rolls his hips deep and harsh and their bellies are rested against each other and George has the feverish thought that Harry must be able to feel his own cock through George's skin he's so huge, even though he knows that's not possible. "We should just keep him in a cage in our bedroom so we can have him whenever we wanted, cute little arse and pretty mouth for spunking in. Ah, fuck."

"Yeah," says Louis, breaking away from George's mouth to grin at him. "Yeah, I think he'd like that, being our pretty toy, wouldn't you?"

George can't handle both of them doing it at once, talking like this, because he _would_ like that, he'd love that, he wants that almost as much as he wants to come, but he can't make any of his thoughts into words so all he manages is a heartfelt "Nrgh," which isn't really anything at all.

"Yeah, I know," Harry promises, nuzzling into George's neck to give him kisses. "You just wanna know you're wanted."

George is whimpering steadily now, the warm feeling in the pit of his stomach spreading to what feels like all of his limbs, but yes yes yes that's what he wants and that's what they're giving to him, so well, better than anyone's given it to him before.

"Of course you're wanted, baby, who wouldn't want you, you're so beautiful," Louis whispers into his ear. "Taking all of Harry's cock like that, you're being so good."

George nods and hitches his hips, letting Harry get that much deeper, taking that much more, being that much better. He digs at Harry's rear with his heels, trying to spur him to ride harder and faster but Harry keeps steady, a mischievous gleam in his eyes because he can tell that he's got George on the edge and is purposely keeping him from falling.

"After I let you come, you're gonna get hard again and let Louis fuck himself on your cock, right?" Harry asks silkily, "Gonna be good and let Louis use you to get off just like you let me, right? Gonna make us both feel good?"

"Yeah," George agrees, "Please -- Harry, please, please..." it falls like a chant from his lips until Louis quiets him with biting kisses again.

Harry shifts onto one elbow and snakes the other between their stomachs, somehow managing to get a steady rhythm on George's cock to match the rhythm he's made pounding into him. It all feels so good that George nearly sobs, is pretty sure, in fact, that there are tears in the back of his eyes.

Louis kisses the corner of George's eye, and it's so incongruously soft and sweet and _surprising_ that it's what finally uncoils the spiral of heat in George's stomach and he comes, crying out and choking back at the same moment, slick shooting up between his chest and Harry's. Harry keeps pumping into him, chasing his own orgasm -- but he keeps his hand working over George, too, even when he's too sensitive and it stings enough to make him whimper desperately and strain hard against Louis' withholding grasp.

It might be the way George is writhing from the overstimulation that finally tips Harry over the edge, his hips slamming forward once more and remaining seated as he bites out a muffled shout and his hand stills, simply squeezing lightly at the base of George's cock.

George collapses, feeling boneless (and very sore all over his body). Harry eases himself out from between George's thighs and George feels -- not empty, but like something is _missing_. Before he can do more than take a few emphatic lungfulls of air, both Louis and Harry are on him again, leaving kisses all over his body and murmuring praise about how pretty he is and how good he was and how special he is for them to have found. 

It's still entirely too soon when Harry's hand finds George's cock again and touches, just gently running over the skin and teasing it into shocks and aftershocks. Louis quietly tells him about how gorgeous his cock is, almost as big as Harry, gonna feel so good. When George opens his eyes, Louis is fingering himself open, giving George and Harry a show as Harry lies alongside George's worn-out body, gently gently teasing his cock back to life with one soft hand carefully stroking it to coax him hard.

It's altogether too much, but somehow still not enough. George doesn't think he could say anything if he opened his mouth to, so he just lets his body make the sounds it wants to, all gasps and weak little moans and soft hums. He's never been more grateful to be nineteen than he is when he's mostly hard again after such a short time, and watching Louis Tomlinson prepare himself to ride George's cock. 

He's still a little bit in disbelief, but it all feels so real and the little shocks of pleasurable too-much tell him he's definitely not dreaming.

Harry chuckles quietly beside him. "No, you're not dreaming. But he's so good... he loves it, loves taking cock, and he's so fit it's like -- fucking a pornstar or something, how he makes his body look when he's bouncing on a big dick. Maybe if -- in the future if we get to keep you, I mean -- it looks so good when there's come just dripping out of him and he's all pink and stretched and pretty; I wish you could see that. Could lick it away."

George shivers all over, looking at Harry desperately. "I -- I -- I," he stammers, craning his neck a little to butt Harry's hand with his head. He wants that so much but maybe he's not supposed to want it as much as he does. Maybe this is all just dirty talk and that's all it'll ever be, but either way it's doing it for George, and the thought of coming again is one he welcomes with a sort of heady anticipation.

Harry smiles at him and his eyes are so warm. George still can't really believe that he's older than Harry, all things considered, but what he _really_ can't believe is that anyone could ever believe anything they say about this boy in the papers, that he doesn't care about people -- that he doesn't love Louis. It just seems obvious. 

"Is he ready yet?" Louis asks, interrupting them, and Harry nods.

Louis gives George a grin, and rolls a condom over George's cock. "Finally."

He lowers himself down onto George and Louis is obviously as used to this as Harry said, because he doesn't go slowly -- Louis has the pace he wants set in his head from the first, and it makes George feel like he might swallow his own tongue as he tries to keep up with the sensation.

George hasn't felt in control at all during this situation, but that's really how he prefers it, anyway. He can feel the ache of the bruises Louis has left on his arms and he focuses on that, to keep himself from coming too quickly. Louis is controlling the pace and the depth and what angle George fucks into him, and it's all George can do to keep his hips from bucking.

"Louis," he moans, biting down on his lip hard to distract himself with the sharp spike of pain. This is exactly what he's been needing, and he doesn't know how these two basically strangers knew, but he's so grateful that they did because he can already feel that the nerves in his stomach and the worry in his head has faded into the background.

"Put your hands on him," Harry whispers in his ear. "He's got such sensitive nipples. It's why he's evil and always pinches everyone else's."

George is startled and warbles one laugh before Louis bucks down particularly hard and all George can do to breathe is gurgle indelicately in his throat.

He tries to lift his arms and put his hands on Louis' skin, but they're shaking too much and he's almost embarrassed until Harry threads their fingers together, dusting a kiss off George's knuckles, and leads.

Louis nearly hits the ceiling when their fingers touch his nipples. It's not that George thought Harry was lying, exactly, he just wasn't expecting Louis to make that noise or to tighten up quite that much. George has to take in a giant lungful of air to stop feeling so lightheaded. 

He pinches lightly at the nipple Harry's set their fingers on, then rubs over it with the pad of his thumb. Louis looks gorgeous, even more than he usually does, flushed and sweaty with his fringe in his eyes. George wants to keep him forever. Harry, too.

"Look at him," Harry whispers, lips moving against George's ear, and that's how he realizes that he's closed his eyes. When he opens them again, he's just struck by the red slash of Louis' mouth, jaw slack and lips wet as he concentrates on working himself over George's body. "He can come without his prick being touched," Harry whispers to George, "I think he's trying to show off for you."

"'Pre -- I appreciate it," George manages in a barely there voice. His fingers scramble at Louis’ thigh while he pinches Louis’ nipple again with the other hand. It feels like all the muscles in his body are tensing up, like he might actually pass out, and he's never felt anything like this. He can't close his eyes again because he might miss a moment of this, of Louis being beautiful and of Harry even though he can't see him.

George runs the side of his thumb over a Louis' hipbone. Harry gently slides his own hands over George's chest and belly and then Harry's fingers are ghosting over George's cock, feeling where George and Louis meet, and George squeaks high, choked sounds in the back of his mouth because he can't handle that, he can't take that without coming, and he doesn't want to come yet, he wants to see Louis do it first, he wants to let Louis show off if he wants.

"Okay, it's okay," Harry murmurs in his ear. "You can do it, I know you can, I know you can do this, just watch." He kisses George's cheek and then his temple. "Just watch him, George. Watch him ride you, he loves putting on a show. You wanna see him come? He's so lovely when he comes. You're so good, George." Harry presses his cheek against George's shoulder. "So glad you're here, so good for us. So good." He swallows and George can feel the movement of Harry's throat against his skin. 

"Watch him," he says with his voice a little sharper, and George's gaze snaps into focus just in time to see Louis’ head fall back and streaks of white splay across George's stomach.

"Oh, my god," George whispers. Louis keeps moving without missing a beat even though his face is exhausted, and George realizes that he's going to keep going until George comes too, and he thinks that's -- lovely, really. 

Louis bends down and scrapes his teeth over George's nipple, a drawing tug more than a bite, and Harry runs his fingers through George's sweaty fringe. When George does come again, it's almost dry, just one sharp, sad jolt of come and then _shivers_ , nerve tingles chasing all over his body like he's had an electric shock or a stroke or something because it's just too, too much.

He doesn't know if he actually passes out or if his vision's just gone grey, but he only snaps back into himself when Harry's big, warm hand cups his jaw.

"You back with us, love?" asks Louis, his voice tired but still managing to sound amused. "Bit of a confidence booster, that."

George's face flushes hot. "Sorry."

"Oh, don't be sorry." Harry, now, the length of him pressed along George's side. "We like you a lot, George." He says it casually, but more like he's trying to be casual than actual nonchalance.

George swallows, because he's heard this -- 'i like you a lot, George, but we were fine without you, I can't be with a guy, I'm more interested in Micky, I promised myself I wouldn't get involved with contestants this year.' 

"Well," George says softly, "You have to, don't you, as I am the 'new you.' Bit odd if you hated yourself-me."

"What?" Harry frowns, his brow wrinkling. "No. I like _you_. We do, I mean. We like you. You being George, not -- not you being our arsebaby."

George wrinkles his nose -- and not in the way that Tumblr loves to gif. "I don't want to think about that part right now. It's eighteen kinds of weird."

"Nineteen kinds, I think," Louis muses from George's other side. "Okay, don't think about that part, then. Think about how we really, really like you. And I don't just like you because you look like Harry, because you don't, really. You're just lovely, and a fantastic shag, and you're very likable, aren't you?"

George bites his lip and looks down. "I like to think I'm likable, yeah. I -- you're both very likable, too."

"And fantastic shags," Louis supplies helpfully.

"And fucking ridiculous shags," George amends.

Harry laughs at that, wriggling a leg over both of George's. "Acceptable," he decides, stretching his arm over as well to curl his hand around Louis’ bicep. "You had a good time, then? Relaxing, and that?"

"Er, yeah, relaxing," George hedges. "I feel like I have no bones left, so. Must be relaxed. I hope I can walk tomorrow, to be honest, but yeah, I'm good now. Thanks."

Louis grabs George's face, pulling him in to press a firm kiss to his lips. "Tell the truth," he whispers, patting George's cheek. "We rocked your fucking world, didn't we?"

George laughs for real this time. "So, not everything about how you come across in public is fake then?"

"No, not everything." The corner of Louis’ mouth turns up in a smile. He looks over George's shoulder and meets Harry's eyes as he continues. "Not the important things."

"Even though sometimes, maybe it'd be easier if we were better actors," Harry admits.

"Yeah, one of my little brothers watches iCarly and I saw that you're really not that good an actor," George offers. "Pretty attractive, though, even on Nickelodeon."

He feels like -- he has to keep things silly and light now so they don't notice how attached to them he's become in one night, and how hard he's clinging to them because he knows that once they leave his room, they won't be coming back for him and he just. He wants them to stay.

"Thank you." Harry looks happy enough with the half-compliment, and he snuggles down into George's side. "You know, I don't think it's very fair that your beds are bigger than ours were. When we were on this show, bigger beds would have come in handy."

"Yeah, we had to make do with bunk beds, d'you remember, H?" Louis sounds affronted. "And you always stepped on my face on your way down."

"Well, your face was always in my way," Harry yawns. "Not my fault."

"All I'm saying is, you're lucky you're cute, Styles, or I'd've dropped you ages ago for how you treat my face." Louis settles his head on George's other shoulder.

"You're both cute," murmurs George. "You're like, one of those really grossly cute couples that argue but don't really."

"'S a waste of our time," Harry says. He cuddles in closer to George and wraps an arm around his skinny waist. "D'you know tonight was the first time we've been allowed to go out to the same place at the same time since... February, is it?"

"That time wasn't allowed," Louis says bitterly. "Not allowed to eat dinner together in public, are we?"

George swallows. "I'm -- you didn't have to waste your one evening out together on me, I'm. I didn't mean to make you feel obligated."

He can practically feel how hard Louis rolls his eyes. "Shitting fuck, it wasn't wasted, was it? Was it wasted for you? You're lying," Louis says immediately. "It wasn't wasted at all. Like we said, we like you."

"D'you get the impression we go around doing this with loads of people?" Harry asks curiously, walking his fingers up George's chest. "We don't, for the record."

"We really don't," Louis agrees. "Because usually, I hate everyone Harry really likes -- "

"Like Nick," Harry explains, and Louis pinches him again.

"Not while we're naked! And Harry hates everyone I really like except my friend Stan, and I think I'd honestly rather fuck a tea kettle whilst it's plugged in than fuck Stan. Only 'cause I've known him since before our balls dropped, but all the same."

"Oh, alright." George wonders if he sounds as confused as he feels. He doesn't know if that's possible, actually. It's like they're having three conversations at once and he's not used to this much thinking so soon after he's orgasmed. "So... Not wasted, then?"

"No," assures Harry, and he presses a soft, open-mouthed kiss to the angle of George's shoulder.

"Okay, that's good, then, isn't it?" George says, blinking as a particularly wide yawn makes his eyes water. "I don't... Mean to be rude, but I think I might fall asleep."

"Louis' already asleep," Harry murmurs, and George lifts his head just enough to see that's true. In the last ten seconds, Louis' gone completely relaxed and nuzzled his face into George's armpit to sleep. "Don't mind me, I'm a night-owl."

"Are -- don't you need to take Louis home?"

Harry raises his eyebrows a little. "Do you want me to take Louis home?" he asks slowly. "Are you throwing us out?"

"I -- no." George's heart speeds up again and suddenly, he's not sleepy anymore, even though he can tell his body needs more rest and recuperation than he's going to be able to give it before the show.

"Good. That'd be awfully rude of you, and I thought you were more polite than that." Harry's smiling at him fondly now, his thigh firmly ensconced between George's. "And I'm comfortable," he adds. "Not to mention how much of a dick Lou is when you try to wake him up. No, best for us to stay right here, I think."

George swallows and wonders whether Harry can hear his heart beating. "I'd like that. If... you... wanted to stay. Both of you, if you wanted -- to stay."

Harry touches the side of George's neck, a very light touch as he kisses the side of George's mouth. "We would both very much like to stay, George," he whispers. "We'd like that a lot."

George opens his mouth to say... something, but Harry hushes him with a soft kiss. "Go to sleep. You have a big day."

George nods and rearranges himself a little on the pillows, trying in vain to find a cool, dry spot on the sex-ruined bedding. His rustling dislodges Louis from his nestling place under George's arm and Louis whines, pushing George sleepily back just how he wants him and tucking his face away again, and Harry laughs softly at George's eye-roll.

"Don't know how you deal with him all the time," George says, but he's lying and they both know it. One look at Louis’ peaceful, half-smiling face and George is pretty sure he'd deal with just about anything to keep him around.

"He's not so bad," Harry murmurs, and his voice swells with affection. "I've dealt with worse. You're lucky you don't all have to share one house this year... I've shared a bathroom with Katie Waissel at five in the morning. That's hard to deal with."

George tries to smile, but the truth is that he does need to share a room with a bandmate who is, at best, indifferent towards him and, at worst, might try to slowly poison him with mercury. 

"It'll be alright," Harry promises George. "If you need to sleep somewhere else, see if they'll let you come out to ours."

George lifts his eyes to meet Harry's, frowning a little. "You're... serious, aren't you?" he asks softly. "You're actually being serious."

"Yeah," Harry says.

"It's not just... one-night-stand talk, is it, like, 'oh you're great, I'll call you, we'll get coffee a week from never, is it?"

"No," Harry says, and his brow furrows.

"Oh." George pauses, searching Harry's face. "You were being serious," he says slowly. "When you said you liked me. You actually do. And not just my arse."

"I mean, I have noticed that basically everyone I really like happens to have a great arse, but that's not why I like them," Harry says. He still looks puzzled. "Did you think I was kidding?"

George takes a moment to answer. "A bit?" he finally says, staring fixedly at Harry's neck. "I mean, I just assumed this would be it, you know?"

"To be fair, I think we did at first too when we went up to you," Harry admits, "But... I don't know. It changed. Don't you think it changed?"

"I just assumed I was getting too attached to people again," George whispers. "I didn't do anything special."

"It's how you looked at Louis that changed," Harry says. "And he'd probably say it's how you looked at me. You'd have to ask him, but I wouldn't recommend waking him. He's like to bite your nipple off. 'S why I've only four now."

George laughs, a little hiccup-y noise that's more pathetic than anything else. He yawns again, resting his head back on the pillow. "I like them," he mumbles. "All four of them. And the rest of you."

"I have to admit I was a little shocked that you only have two," Harry says, and he grins, and something settles in George that things are _good_ now. At least until tomorrow's show, because after that who knows what will happen, really. "You really can't be the new me unless you also reabsorbed a twin in utero and stole their nipples."

"You know, I can't recall that happening," George sighs. His eyes are closing and he wants them to stay open because Harry's face right now is really, really good. "Maybe, though. Maybe my extras are in weird places."

"I think you have extra cheekbone," Louis mumbles, and George and Harry both startle because they'd thought he was sound asleep. Louis flumps around on the blankets and they all have to shuffle a bit so he can get arranged just how he likes. "You have a fucking lot of cheekbone for just one boy."

"That explains your arse, then," George teases. "Did you reabsorb a twin, too?"

Louis bites him, and George yelps, and Harry laughs.

"Just so you know," Louis mutters, "I want to keep you, too. And you should sleep at ours in our bed. Like a puppy. But not a puppy 'cause we have sex with you. Not a puppy or our time-traveling arsebaby."

"Go to sleep, Lou," Harry says gently, and Louis mumbles _kay_ and gets quiet.

George rests his cheek on Louis’ hair for a moment. "That sounds nice," he says so quietly he almost can't hear it himself. "You know. In theory."

"Shh," says Harry simply, nosing at George's neck again. "You too. Go to sleep. We'll still be here when you wake up."

George tries to resist, but as it turns out, Harry's voice is magical. He's asleep before he can even muster up a _goodnight_.

If you had told George two months ago that on the morning of the first X Factor live show, he would wake up with two members of One Direction naked in his bed, the sorest arse he's ever had in his life, and a crust of spunk pretty much all over his body, he would have thought you were on crack. He briefly wonders, as he eases himself gingerly out of the bed and wobbles his way to the bathroom to shower, whether _he_ is on crack and this is all a delusion that he'll wake up from in the alley behind Costa Coffee in Bristol, but the water in the shower is scalding hot and feels good on the sore muscles of his shoulders and arms and back -- and there, on his forearms, are blue bruises in the exact size and shape of Louis Tomlinson's thumbs.

Right, not on crack, then. Probably not, anyway. 

George stays under the water until he feels a bit less achey, then shuts it off, leaving some hot water in case either of the people in his bed want a shower. There are two people in his bed, he thinks with not a hint of incredulity. This doesn't _happen_.

He makes his way back out into the room with a towel around his waist, and comes upon at least one awake member of One Direction, Harry's eyes drowsy but zeroing in on George in his towel. George thinks, wildly, that he's actually woken up in a porn, because that's the only place things like this ever happen.

"Hi," Harry rasps, and he sits up to scrub at his eyes and nose at the heels of his hands, snuffling, and George thinks, well, no, right then. Much too adorable for porn.

"Hi," George offers. He tightens the towel around his waist, self-conscious, even though he knows that's silly. Harry's already seen everything under that towel. Harry Styles has been _inside_ him, and the thought makes him feel giddy and ridiculous and a bit incredulous and sick in the light of morning. He's had sex with Harry Styles.

"Geroff me, sunlight," Louis groans, rolling over to flop face-first into the pillows.

And Louis Tomlinson. He's had sex with Harry Styles _and_ Louis Tomlinson.

He never, ever anticipated this when he signed up to try out for X Factor.

"Sorry, that's the curtains, they don't close all the way." George feebly tugs at them, and they remain, as always, slightly gaping. "Er. Did either of you want a shower?"

"What time is it?" asks Harry instead of responding, half-sitting up in bed.

George checks the time on his phone. "Early." He winces. "Late enough that I need to start getting ready for rehearsals."

“How’s your voice?” Louis asks, his own voice grumbly and sweet. He rolls back over again and rubs his eyes before shielding them from the blinding stripe of light shining through the window. “Sorry again, about – kinda choking you. Can you sing alright?”

“I’ven’t tried,” George says. “You were both sleeping.”

“Sing,” Harry commands, but George just blushes. “What?”

“I can’t just – sing in front of One Direction,” George blusters. “That’s crazy.”

“I don’t see One Direction here,” Harry says. He looks at Louis, who shrugs. “I see Louis and me, but not One Direction. It’s only One Direction if it’s all of us.”

George smiles ruefully and looks at his feet. He’s dripping water on the parquet floors; the cleaning staff will be just so thrilled with him.

“Hey,” Louis says, and George looks up. “And Union J is only Union J with all four of you. You wouldn’t have got through if not, so just… they’ll learn to suck it up, alright?”

“Yeah, of course. Sure,” George says with false confidence. 

There’s a knock at the door, and they all freeze. Harry and Louis look at each other while George stares at them both like a deer caught in their headlights.

“George?” It’s JJ’s voice. “Can Josh get in yet? He needs his face cream.”

George looks at Harry and Louis and they both shrug. “He saw us come in,” Harry reasons.

“Yeah,” George calls back, and his voice cracks. He scampers over to the door and unlocks it while Harry and Louis pull the blankets up to cover their junk.

Josh comes in and looks dryly from George over to the boys in the bed. “Good night, then?”

George nods. “Did you… find a bed to sleep in?”

“Bunked with Jayj and Jaymi,” Josh says. “They’ve always got my back.” He roots in his bag and comes out with a small purple pot of matte crème before disappearing into the bathroom.

“What a dick,” Louis says before the door is even shut completely.

“Well, I did sexile him,” George says. “To be fair.”

“It’s not fair,” Harry says, and there’s something quiet but final in his voice. He slides out of the bed and pads naked across the room to kiss George’s mouth shortly. “Have to wee. I’ll be back.”

“But Josh is – ”

“I know,” Harry says. “When I was on the X Factor, we had to deal with seeing strange men wee all the time. He can deal with that.”

Harry lets himself into the en suite bathroom and the door shuts, and George stares at it a moment before slowly making his way to the closet to get dressed for his big day.

“You know he’s confronting Josh for your honor and valor, right?” Louis asks. He’s still lounging in George’s bed like he owns the Corinthia.

George can’t even say anything, because he doesn’t know what he’s supposed to say. He picked up two men at a nightclub for a one-night stand and now they’re talking about _liking_ him and inviting him to spend the night at theirs when his roommate sucks too badly and _Harry fucking Styles is fighting for his honor and valor, whilst naked, in the bathroom at half-eight in the morning._

Warm, strong arms wrap around him from behind before he manages to get his striped shirt pulled all the way on, and Louis rubs his thumb over George’s navel affectionately. “You’re gonna fucking kill it tonight. You are.” He kisses the back of George’s neck. “I have to go, Harry will need to be dressed before he hosts a show with Grimmy in like two hours and I have to meet up with Greg James to go over my songlist.” He kisses the back of George’s neck again. “But we’ll see you tonight at the show. You’re gonna fucking kill it.”

George will never be really used to the X Factor lifestyle.

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